Introduction
Sabbath's
Place in Human Experience
Rabbi Ze'ev Haim Lifshitz
Translated
by S.
Nathan
LÕilui
Nishmat
Esther Bat Mordechai
Home
"Take Sabbath roots, essence of
praise, essence of awareness, essence of
joy
and essence of confidence.
Remove the pits of anguish and
anxiety.
Take a knowledge pomegranate flower
and an insight pomegranate flower.
Add patience root and acceptance
root.
Grind the mixture with a
self-effacement mill,
and cook in a humility pot.
Knead with sweet words.
Dissolve
in
a liquid solution of grace and lovingkindness.
Administer
to patients diagnosed with Despair's Disease..."
Excerpted from The Book of What Is, attributed to Maimonides.
1.
"Massive mountains suspended by a hair" is the classic metaphor for the
legal boundaries of the Jewish Sabbath.[1]
2. Mental focus and inner intention determine
whether someone has actually transgressed or has simply
"worked needlessly."
3. Transgression requires conscious, premeditated labor involving
personal attention and intention.
4. The principles that unfold
at the human level are the critical factor - not the act itself.
5. Objective law
depends on subjective intention, the subject being the Jew fulfilling
the law.
A difference between Jew and non-Jew: A Jew follows a dynamic
trajectory of incessant change - for better or for worse - in contrast
with the static, restricted, defined, framework-driven reality of the
non-Jew.
Keeping Sabbath and studying Torah study are two commandments that
diverge from the subject-object relationship, which is a one-way
relationship from the
acting
human being to the object being acted upon. These two mitzvahs are
built on the principle of reciprocity: The mitzvah itself, together
with the performer of
the
mitzvah, influence and are influenced by one another, reciprocally,
thereby expressing - more than all the rest of the worship of God - the
reciprocity inherent in the relationship between human beings and their
Creator.
Human beings create Sabbath. They must "make Sabbath," and
not merely "keep Sabbath:" "Let the children of Israel keep
Sabbath, to make Sabbath for their generations - an eternal
covenant."[2]
On the other hand, Sabbath makes the Jew:[3]
As a new reality, Sabbath is unlike any other activity, human artifact
or Divine handiwork. It is even a new entity,
born out of non-entity, built out of a secret code between Creator and Jew: "Between Me and the Children of
Israel - a sign
forever."
Sabbath is a reality created in collaboration between a
Jew and his Creator.
This new reality, created by the keeper of Sabbath, emerges as he
expresses his own unfolding
sanctity, his own anticipation of redemption from physical matter, his
own actualization of the spirit of
God inherent in him - an interactive process that turns his most
exalted sensations into tangible spiritual reality. It emerges as
he deliberately detaches from practical
action, which includes even creative action,
or perhaps
especially creative action that is directed toward conquest of the
external reality. On Sabbath, a Jew closes inward, turning in toward his innermost self,
creating himself, by expressing the Godly part within him, his self -
the place where his Godly qualities dwell. This expression
transforms him. He is renewed as a Godly reality that imprints
its seal on his senses, on all sensation - renewing him, engendering
new powers within him, a new entity born out of non-entity - empowered
above and beyond the limitation of his inborn potential.
The Sabbath is created and the Sabbath creates. The Jew creates
it, yet it creates him in turn. It renews him, and imbues him
with the power of heaven's generous
bounty, which bursts the boundaries of the pre-defined human being.
Yet if a non-Jew were to burst these boundaries and break into the
inner
sanctum, seeking the fragrance of its bounty, then all the renewal and
wealth would become "wealth retained for its owner's
undoing." Such bounty is incompatible with its owner's
ability to digest. This is the nature of the mitzvah of the
Sabbath and of the mitzvah of Torah study as well.
"A REMEMBRANCE OF THE PRIMAL ACT."
"A REMEMBRANCE OF THE EXODUS FROM EGYPT."
Two elements of remembrance characterize this mitzvah, unlike the other
mitzvahs, to which the Torah attributes only one element: The
Exodus from
Egypt. The Sabbath is characterized by a second element as
well:
"A remembrance of the primal act,"
i.e. the creation of the physical universe.
The Sabbath promises its observers a rare privilege: Human
and universe are encompassed in one solid block of Godly presence,
actualized in human and universe alike.
This actualization gives expression to the object inherent in reality,
as it unites with the expression of human quality inherent in the
uniquely original inner space of the human personality - in which the
individual expresses himself, his uniquely original personality.
The mitzvah of the Sabbath grants man the rare and sole opportunity to
expose his most concealed longing: That spiritual self-actualization be
the main reason for his
existence.
Upholding the Sabbath constitutes spirit's victory over matter, the
qualitative spirit's liberation from the confining stranglehold of
space and time, and all this without having to
detach or turn away from viewing the physical as positive, pleasurable,
and tangibly real. "You
shall call Sabbath pleasure" and "a semblance of the world
to come," in this world. On Sabbath, Judaism celebrates its
mysteriously eternal victory.
While ordinary human religious sensibility perceives physical matter as
an
obstacle, along comes sublime Providence to reveal to sublime human
beings that
spiritual content can be preserved in the garments of physical matter,
and through instruments of actualization that are exclusive to the
physical
domain.
It can be a dangerous venture otherwise - trying for
cooperation between spirit and matter. One can often feel as
though one has
stumbled into someone else's battle - both rivals demand that he choose
their
side...he
barely escapes by the skin of his teeth, while sustaining injuries from
both
factions...
Yet Sabbath wears the apparel of physical matter gloriously, as implied
in the
verse "they made loincloths for themselves."[4] On Sabbath, it is the
Creator of the universe
Himself in all His glory, Who clothes the keeper of Sabbath in glory,
in
remembrance of the primal act.
TWO REMEMBRANCES: TWO APPROACHES TO THE WAY WE RELATE TO THE UNIVERSE
Remembering the Primal Act:
We relate to the world of action...by acting: There are many acts
whose main
essence is in the doing, in the fact that they are being
executed. We
view all such acts from their practical perspective: We fulfil the
practical mitsvas
- we take the lulav, we dwell in the suca, we put on tefilin,
we help one another, we do acts of chesed.
Yet there are other mitsvas that take place only within the heart:
Belief in
God, confidence in God, awareness of the "remembrances" etc.
The fulfillment of these mitsvos leaves no tangible mark on the
objective world
of action. The mitsva unfolds between oneself and one's
Possessor, in the
inner spaces of the heart.
It is needless to mention that the practical mitsvas are not meant to
be
carried out mindlessly - mere monkey's tricks devoid of personal
meaning or
intent. Nevertheless, it takes very little to satisfy the halacha. "Mitsvas require conscious
intent,[5]" in the simplest sense
of the word; the doer must be aware at the time of doing, that his
doing is for
the sake of mitsva.
To attempt other, "higher" intentions, is to entangle oneself in the
famous controversy over the passage originated by the Chassidic
movement:
"For the sake of the union of the Holy One and the Immanent Divine
Presence..." This passage was to be recited prior to the
performance
of every mitsva.
Noda BeYehuda rejects this practice of reciting additional passages, on
the
following grounds: "Whoever adds, detracts." [6]
Maimonides' position supports Noda BeYehuda.
There need be only one intention when sounding the shofar, Maimonides writes: There need be
only the intention to fulfill
what is written in the Torah. We sound it because "the Merciful
One
said, 'sound it.'"[7]
We see, then, that there is an entire category of mitsvas that focuses
upon
effecting objective change in the physical, external world.
The internal/external distinction has wide application. It is the
crimson
thread running through the entire spectrum of human activity: Certain
behaviors
are intended to establish facts, to attain an objective in the
field.
Other behaviors are intended to serve as an expression for some inner
meaning,
for some emotion, for the outlet of an accumulated reservoir of
emotion.
In this second category, activity unfolds within the inner human self,
it cannot
be seen with the physical eye. It is a behavior, but it takes
place
within the subject. There is no defined expression. No mark
is made
upon any object.
Sabbath is the only mitsva that addresses the innermost depths of human
awareness, that expresses the very most sensitive and delicate among
human
emotions and thought processes, and yet at the same time intends
clearly to
establish a definite fact in a definite field of objective reality.
We see, then, that the act of Sabbath unites "being" with
"doing."
This is called "the world of yetsira."
It is the point of encounter between the world of spirit and the world
of
matter. The reality that exists in "the world of yetsira" is entirely the fruit of human
creativity.
Creating reality in "the world of yetsira" is a unifying act. For one
must take one's
materials from "the world of asiyah,"
of doing. Then one must endow them with idealism, with meaning,
and with
values, that one has drawn from the sublime world - "the world of briah."
To achieve this, one must travel the road of personal involvement with
the
act. One must bestow one's own meaningful value and direction
upon an
external object, and thus - a private and personal relationship with an
objective external mitsva is achieved. A merger takes
place. Inner
quality is bestowed upon an external quantitative act.
It is then that a truly real reality unfolds, weighted with qualitative
meaning. Reality is transformed - it becomes an utterly new
entity.
Its like has never previously existed, and will never exist again.
The act of Sabbath relates to only this sort of loaded and charged
reality. Sabbath ignores the more paltry realities, the one-sided
realities, whether they are the overly internalized reality of inner
feelings
that lack practical tangible expression, or whether they are the overly
externalized reality of objective phenomena that are detached from
inner human
intention.
Either of these, when detached from the other, is irrelevant -
ineffectual. Relevant only is that perfect balancing act, which
is the
halachic observance of Sabbath, as reflected in the elusive mishnaic
description, "mountains that hang upon a hair."
This phrase alludes to the ultra-fine balance of forces, the symbiotic
dependency shared by universe and human being, that characterizes the
Sabbath
encounter. Compare this with the merely secular act; all that
counts are
the recordable facts in the measurable field.
A threat is constantly hovering over man and his deeds: There is the
danger of
a split. The two may come apart. A crack may develop
between
"to be" and "to do," and it can widen into a yawning and
devastating fissure - to the point where a man's practical life has no
relationship to his inner needs.
On Sabbath, this contingency disappears. It is wafted away by the
ultra-subtle, ultra-delicate ultra-sensitive fragrance of the
victorious
"to be." "To be" is on top. It acts as sole
determiner of the practical actions of "to do," whether prohibiting
(refraining from desecrating the Sabbath) or permitting (bestowing
sanctity
upon the observances of Sabbath).
The vast no-man's-land that sprawls between the inner and outer realms
disappears on Sabbath: Sabbath is about bestowing your own inner
quality upon
an external act. It is about creating a new reality, a new fact
in the
field, laden with your own unfolding human process, steeped in the wine
of your
own idealistic yearnings, in the very purpose of your existence, in
your
spiritual goal.
Here one enters "the world of yetsira," of creativity, here one "glories
in the work of [one's]
hands." Here, in Sabbath, a Jew creates a three-way encounter: Creator ('dimension of sublime values, of
height;' the
"world of bria,"
of Divine
creation) / man (one's unique
and personal awareness of sublime values, expressed in one's private
"world of yetsira,"
of
creativity) /physical universe.
(For man's expression of creativity to take place in the "world of yetsira," he must draw upon the
'real-world' physical and
material substances found in "the world of asiya," of practical doing).
In sum, it is man who bestows material "asiya" substance upon sublime "bria" values. Out of this
encounter - that can be
effected only by a human being - a new reality is born.
The laws of entropy have no power against this new reality - it has
been
immunized by Sabbath. Integrity - integration - is the gift that
Sabbath
bestows upon the Jew, in return for the gift of integrity that he
bestows upon
the universe.
The separate components that comprise the human personality become
consolidated
into one whole. This solidity - and this wholeness - is
permanent, in a
way that does not exist in nature. The lasting value of this
transformation has no equivalent within the natural network of human
being-universe relations.
Hence the claim that the resting of Sabbath supplies a source of energy
unknown
and unavailable in the secular realm: In the secular reality, energy is
wasted,
expended. More is sent out than is taken in. One finds more
the
waste of energy than the creation of energy. Sabbath, unlike the
six days
of doing, conducts energy to - rather than from - the human
being. The
replenishment, plus bonus, of one's energy supply at weekly intervals
compensates for energies drained and depleted during the week.
It is important to point out that man's empowerment and his control
over
reality within the "world of yetsira"
does not occur automatically. Rather, it follows the rule of -
"Make
His will, your will, so that He will make your will, His will."[8]
The human being who
lives by the Creator's rules can determine the rules of the game of his
own reality.
What he says, goes - because his will is God's will.
"A just man decrees and the Holy One fulfils," and "not in
Heaven is [the Torah]." Halachic authority is vested in the man
who
lives by halacha and who arrives at
legal verdict according to halacha.
Heaven itself facilitates his work, and God smiles on him, saying, "my
children have triumphed over me."[9]
But Sabbath is the focal point for all of this. The "world of yetsira"
revolves around
Sabbath. It is on Sabbath
that a Jew sets down the rules of the game of reality. These are
the
rules that he creates; they are the fruit of his own creative
qualitative
spirit. It is by these rules that he will conduct himself during
the days
of the following week, and it is by the light of their inspiration that
he will
form his response to the days of the preceding week. The
conclusions that
he draws will be colored by this inspiration. His perspective
upon the
world of action is imbued with a new light, drawn from the dimension of
height.
Thus does the Jew look down upon reality from above. He
encompasses it,
he controls it, and he even creates it anew. It is a new reality
- in
which the days of the week become the material actualization of the
spiritual
quality of Sabbath.
So empowered does a Jew become, through the inspiration of Sabbath,
that the
delicate balance of human-universe relations - as reflected in the
subtle
textures of the natural processes which enable "natural" non-Jewish
man - may sometimes be "jeopardized."
It is true that these processes are certainly determined by free
choice, a
trait that is shared in common with all those who are created in God's
image. Yet although created in God's image, all other human
creatures are
bound within a system of natural laws.
The Jewish freedom of choice contains an additional quality:
Empowerment.
It appears that a Jew is capable of taking control of the material
systems. Sabbath liberates the Jew significantly from the
impositions of
natural reality, whether for better or for worse.
This means that a Jew must bear responsibility for what transpires
within the
universe. Here we are afforded an insight into the peculiarly
Jewish
susceptibility to any and every ideal of social justice.
Reciprocity and covenant characterize the relationship between Jew and
Creator
of the universe on Sabbath: "Between Me and the children of
Israel
it is a sign forever."
Would a non-Jew presume to enter this innermost space, into the mystery
of the
sanctity of Sabbath, he would be forced to renounce his natural,
rule-governed
relationship to the universe. At the same time, he would not have
the
system of Torah and mitsvos to enable him to build his own world of yetsira.
In other words, he
would still remain
subordinate to natural law. This is too heavy a burden for a
human being
to bear.
Sabbath: REALITY IS CREATED / REALITY CREATES.
"And the children of Israel shall keep the Sabbath to make the Sabbath
a
covenant forever. Between Me and between the children of Israel,
it is a
sign forever."[10]
Sabbath commemorates the primal act of Genesis, and the exodus from
Egypt.
These two "remembrance" principles direct the Jew to view Sabbath
simultaneously from two perspectives: Firstly, Sabbath as the
foundation
supporting the created universe. Secondly, Sabbath as the
foundation that
supports each member of Israel, that is, every single individual
Jew. How
so?
To understand this, we must focus briefly on the developing processes
of the
created universe. 'Developing' is not quite the right word to
describe
the processes that constitute the created universe. 'Unfolding'
would be
a more faithful and accurate term.
Development implies flow along a fixed channel. The flow is
subject to
fixed laws, and follows a course that is fixed in space and time.
Definite and fixed stages for every process may be predicted in advance.
'Unfolding' is not determined by fixed causal factors. Rather,
many
factors coalesce from many directions. The most important factor,
the
cause that transpires within the inner spaces of the human being, is
not
accessible to definition at all. It is not fixed. It is
undefined
and unpredictable. Fixedness, predictability, following
predetermined
rules - all these are remote indeed from the inner spaces of human
consciousness.
For accuracy's sake we must point out that 'becoming,' or 'unfolding,'
although
central to the dynamic of the created universe, is not necessarily
discernible
at every level of creation. In fact, inanimate objects seem most
characterized by fixedness; with vegetative growth, it is slightly less
so.
Even the animal does not really diverge from the realm of the
established
pattern, despite the fact that its fixedness is of a kind that permits
certain
changes. These changes are more readily discernible than the
severely
limited processes of change found in the developmental stages of plants
and inanimate
objects.
The human race does not partake of any of these patterns. It
diverges
entirely from the realm of fixedness, and the definition of 'unfolding'
relates
precisely to its condition. If we may continue to use this
distinction -
if we may differentiate between developing and unfolding - we find that
it
applies even among human beings:
There are people for whom fixedness is a predominant characteristic,
while the
process of unfolding is less discernible in them. Such is the
case with
the very young child, and such is the case with the very simple and
uncomplicated individual. He attains a state of completed
development
much earlier than the highly complex or qualitative individual.
The more multi-faceted a person is, the more comprised of many and
various qualities,
the later he will arrive at permanence. It would not be far from
the
truth to call a highly qualitative and richly talented person a
creature who
occupies a continuous state of unfolding.
Yet, there is an opposite side to this coin. Too much flux - too
much of
the condition of perpetual change - puts the personality at risk.
It
threatens that minimum of fixedness that does exist, that is necessary
and
indispensable for the basic image of the self.
To threaten this basic, non-negotiable level of stability is to invite
personal
deterioration. It is to sink into the abyss, and
disintegrate. The
normal human condition is one of composite wholeness, comprised of many
aspects
merged and functioning together. To disintegrate is to break the
composition
down to its separate and distinct components - what is termed the
process of
entropy in the language of physics.
If we would wish to define the difference between Jew and non-Jew, we
might
perhaps attribute to the Jew a distinguishing trait of being
continuously unfolding.
Otherwise how to explain the restlessness, the effervescence, the
constant
movement, the rapid and radical changes of perspective, the swings from
one
extreme to another that characterize the Jew; a phenomenon quite
disturbing to
the outside observer, and also quite disturbing to the Jew
himself.
What of the neurotic and relentless quest after new truths; the endless
search
for the endlessly elusive utopia? These searches can be most
disconcerting; they are just as likely to lead backward as to lead
forward.
Consider also the Jew's lack of consideration for the facts of reality,
and his
peculiar interpretation of them. It is amazing by its very
absence of
logic, by the strange and subjective combinations he makes of the
objective
facts in the field - a peculiar mix of principles and facts, of dream
and
reality. Ideals and existential compulsion fuse together into a
matrix
that is characterized more by change than by any constancy of feature.
Do not bother the typical Jew with facts. It is a simple matter
for him
to reach the point where he cannot stop himself from crossing red lines
that he
himself has drawn. And we must not forget the fear of the
unknown.
This is the archetype of all fear, and it is the Jew's bread and
butter.
Care to establish rapport with an uncommunicative Jew? Bring up
the
subject of health; you are assured of boundless sympathy. Jewish
anxiety
over health vies only with the notorious Jewish anxiety over earning a
living. And what of the guilt that gnaws at the Jew, that
undermines his
confidence in his own ability (an ability usually greater than that of
the
people seeking to undermine his confidence in it) but too much has
already been
said and written on this subject. Can it be mere coincidence that
it was the
Jews who invented psychology out of thin air? "Being out of
non-being."
"Sabbath comes, rest comes." Can it be? It happens
instantaneously. There is a certain moment - among the flickering
moments
of twilight - that is no more than the blink of an eye, and Sabbath is
suddenly
here. An invisible hand sweeps across the horizon, wiping anxiety
away, and
fear, and the distresses of existence - they have melted away, they are
gone. Is it possible? What is Sabbath's power to work this
wonder?
The covenant between God and Jew that is called Sabbath, operates at
the level
of reciprocity; it is a mutual relationship between equals. A brit of equality transpires between the
Creator and the work
of his hands. That is - on Sabbath, creature becomes
creator.
The Creator of the universe bestows of his unlimited creative power
upon the
Jew who keeps Sabbath.
The resting that is demanded of the Jew on Sabbath is not necessarily a
resting
of the body, but rather a rest from the fatigue of time and from the
distresses
of existence. Sabbath rest is built upon liberation from the
struggle for
survival. The basis of the survival system is fear and anxiety -
especially when we consider the Jew: Confronting the struggle for
survival, the
Jew feels a heavy yoke of responsibility; he bears the weight of the
entire
universe upon his shoulders.
But on Sabbath, God commands a Jew to take a break - it is time out
from the
fight for existence. The Jew must transfer responsibility, now,
to the
real owner, to the Creator of the universe. A new definition of
rest thus
rises out of the Sabbath experience. It is discovery. One
discovers
the role that is unique to the godly presence that is oneself.
The
purpose of one's existence is examined in this new light.
Specific personal qualities, specific expressions of talent, abilities
that are
unique to oneself alone: All of these are perceived with new
reverence.
For it is expressing your specific personal quality, rather than
anxiety over
your struggle for existence, that truly fulfills the will of the
Creator.
And if you fulfill the will of your Creator, you find that the Creator
Himself,
in all His glory, occupies Himself with protecting your existence - in
the
sense of "cast the burden of your existence upon God and he will
sustain you."[11]
During the course of the week, this great truth grows rusty; gradually
it is
covered with dust. It is impossible to clean it off during the
workweek. How will it shine forth in all its pristine
purity? Man
is too desperately confronting the business of survival.
"One who immerses [for purity] with an insect in his hand - his
immersion
is ineffective." He must set aside the business of
self-preservation. He must clear a space in his heart, a quiet
place where
he is free, where he can contemplate the things that are important.
This turning away from the rule of the jungle, automatically pushes ego
aside. Ego, and self-preservation, are mechanical systems
characterized
by sheer absence of content. Meaning and content are marginal
factors in
the world of ego.
How different things look when the inner self, the abode of quality,
the focus
of creative and original being - demands center stage. The self
is not
satisfied with laboring for its mere existence, because such toil
expresses no
quality. Mere existence is a blind machine; one presses the
appropriate
button and the machine is activated by external stimulus.
The self disdains such manipulation. The self is the
representative
of the spirit; it is all quality, it is all supreme value. It has
one
main interest: Realizing the image of God that is in man. When
the self
is freed, it is drawn upward, to cooperate with its Creator as one
equal with
another.
A sacred covenant is signed on Sabbath. It is between man and his
Creator.
"I" is manifest most clearly on Sabbath, because Sabbath frees it
from its confinement, from the "hiddenness of [God's] face" which
normally characterizes its worldly existence.
Personal preoccupation with the labor of survival is a one-directional
involvement
from inner to outer. It empties man of the vitality whose source
is in the
self Ego is the true thief. Ego robs the self of its
infinite
creative vitality, and ego never troubles itself to return what it has
stolen. Ego's demands actually starve one's authentic human
needs, as the
Talmud implies: "If you satisfy it - it starves; if you starve it
-
it is satisfied."
In contrast to ego, the self is an active partner in the work of
creativity. In doing the selfÕs work, one's vitality is never
drained,
rather it is renewed and increased.
When "I" cleaves to its task, the entire personality - in all its
uniqueness, in all its original primal power - finds full and free
creative
expression. Thus, we find that it is precisely on Sabbath that
man is
truly creative, precisely at the moment of rest from the struggles of
survival.
With this perspective, we may interpret the prohibition against labor
on Sabbath
as a prohibition against personal involvement in the business of
struggling for
survival. Personal involvement includes conscious intentional
involvement
in the fray of existence. The Torah prohibits the "premeditated
task."
On the contrary, spiritual creativity, clean and free of the struggle
for
survival, is the order of the day. It starts at the inner self
and it
travels higher and higher until it reaches the summit of the
universe.
Compare this with the survival mechanism. It starts at the inner
self but
it gets no further than the external environment.
We see that the Sabbath involvement expresses "being," and nothing
more. There is no mechanical doing, one does not serve, nor bow
to the
dictates of the external environment. In this way, Sabbath
awakens
"I," who is rooted in God. Sabbath strengthens "I,"
and focuses it. The personality centers in round its own creative
and
qualitative purpose.
Thus does Sabbath preserve a man from his tendency to disintegrate into
separate elements, and thus does Sabbath consolidate the unique and
original
quality that is his "I." Here we begin to comprehend the RambamÕs
amazing prescription, "the potion for benefit and confidence:"
"...Take some roots of Sabbath, some essence of praise and awareness,
and
some essence of joy and confidence. Remove the pits of anguish
and
anxiety. Take of the flower of the pomegranates of knowledge and
insight,
add roots of patience and acceptance, grind everything in a mill of
self-effacement, and cook everything in the pot of humility.
Knead with
sweetened words and emulsify in a solution of grace and
lovingkindness.
Feed to the sick one, suffering from despair
...the patient will rest and grow calmer..." (Sefer Hanimtsa)
It would be legitimate to wonder what Sabbath has to do with the repair
of
character. What has Sabbath to do with avodas
hamidos, the
work of character perfection and attaining inner harmony? Sabbath
is
classically perceived as the basic principle supporting the man/God
relationship. Yet here we find the RambamÕs
"prescription."
How is it that this spiritual giant assumes that Sabbath is fundamental
to
personal balance, to personal growth, to one's own relationship with
one's
self?
According to our thesis, however, this perception is self-evident and
inevitable. For it is Sabbath that endows a man with his own
original
personality. Sabbath preserves and protects him from the abuses
of the
physical universe by freeing him from the prison of survival.
"A prisoner cannot release himself from jail."[12] Without Sabbath, a Jew is
imprisoned in the cell
of survival; his image grows gradually blurred; he is drained -
inexorably - of
his quality and of his creative vitality.
If the five senses are what dictate your perception of reality, if
external
reality is all that counts for you, then you are indeed imprisoned in a
cell of
your own making; this is the inevitable result.
A Jew needs to grasp reality at the dimension of height. A Jew's
reality
is the world of creativity; only here can he find free expression for
the
originality and uniqueness that comprise his individual private
personality.
Sabbath provides a Jew with the foundation and with the conditions
necessary
for approaching reality from this perspective. Thus, Sabbath sees
to it
that the dimension of height occupies a central position in the Jew's
worldview.
No observance of any of the mitsvos by which man relates to God and by
which
man relates to his fellow, would be possible in any way, were it not
for the
perspective bestowed by Sabbath.[13]
"The serpent cannot kill. Only sin can kill,"[14] Rabbi
Chanina Ben Dosa
remarked serenely, having allowed the serpent to bite him in order that
it
should die. Sabbath assures a Jew of liberation from dependency
upon the
laws of material nature.
Only Sabbath, as the foundation for all the other mitsvos, and the
study of the
Torah as well, are able to grant this privilege: Only the keepers of
Sabbath
can break out of the prison of the survival mechanism. Only they
can beat
the system. Indeed, it is possible for them to leave it behind
entirely.
Sabbath: MORE SELF-RENEWING THAN REBIRTH
What does Sabbath have that other mitsvos do not?
Chazal, the sages of the Talmud, teach us: There are two mitsvos - two
primal
elements - that existed before the universe itself: Torah[15] and
Sabbath. "An
exquisite thing have I treasured away in my treasure house and Sabbath
is its
name."[16]
Sabbath preceded the creation of the universe: The act of creation
entailed the
separation of object from subject. That is, a separation took
place between
Creator and created.
All created beings were henceforth subject to the law of separation,
the law of
object/subject distinction, and this includes human beings.
This law cannot be ignored. To do so, is to risk disconnecting
from the
laws of nature. It is to risk moving toward disintegration of
one's own
compounded being. For after all, a human being is the most
perfect
example of integration in the created universe.
To preserve this integration, one must respect the laws of nature, and
the laws
that govern the process of disintegration. These laws derive from
the
principle of separateness. Separateness derives from the act of
creation
itself.
Sabbath, and study of Torah, are the only opportunities that one has to
return
to one's 'pre-creation' roots of ideal unity.
Ideal unity may be defined as unity that is achieved between opposing
forces. For opposition is a central motif characterizing the
created
universe.
First and foremost on the list of opposing forces is the conflict
between
subject and object. The ramifications of this conflict are vast
in
scope. They include many other dichotomous relationships, such as
permanence/change, heaven/earth, spirit/matter, rational
intelligence/emotion,
sacred/secular, thought/deed, and rest/movement.
Each of these is a conflict between two separate spheres. To
ignore this
principle, to ignore the intrinsic separateness inherent in the natural
world
is to try to catch a glimpse of utopia, but it is a deceptive, illusory
vision. One can only be hurt by this futile effort, because
separateness
is a thorn hopelessly embedded in one's flesh, in the very fact of
one's
physical existence. It must be recognized.
Yet here comes Sabbath...bringing one back to the very roots of unity,
of wholeness
- to the ideal conditions that preceded one's creation, that preceded
the
creation of the universe itself.
The Talmud warns that this is potent stuff: "A non-Jew who has
kept Sabbath
incurs a death penalty."
It is hazardous, cautions the Talmud, to attempt to return to one's own
original primal connection - to one's source in God - by ways that do
not pass
through the created universe and through its existing frameworks.
On the
lower level, this framework refers to natural laws, to the processes
and
conflicts inherent in nature. On a higher level, there is the
framework
of Torah and mitsvos. A non-Jew - because he does not bear the
yoke of
Torah and mitsvos - cannot attempt to connect to his source in God by
way of Sabbath
alone. To do so would be to forfeit his natural existence.
"...Because the souls of the children of Israel, from beneath the wings
of
the Shechina, are from a place of unity; which is not the case with any
other
nation, rather [they come] from a place of separation. But this
thing is
not discernible among Israel except on the day of Sabbath, when He - be
He
blessed - sends an abundance of sanctity to every person of Israel,
each and
every one according to the root of that soul as it is to be found
beneath the
wings of the Shechina. In this way we find that a man cleaves to
his
Possessor, for He pours spirit upon us from the height of the wings of
His
Shechina, unseparated from His own being, and thus we are found
attaching
ourselves to Him, be He blessed, and separating from externality.
Therefore - in that on the day of Sabbath we are being united toward
the source
of our own souls and distancing ourselves from separation - therefore
we have
been commanded against carrying, out of the private realm - this is an
allusion
to the realm to which we are attached - into the public realm.
This is an
allusion to the world of separateness from whence come the rest of the
nations. Also [we are forbidden] to carry in [from one realm to
another
realm] for [in so doing] one has mixed sacred into secular, or secular
into
sacred - it is all one. This is comparable - and we find here
juxtaposition - to all the other labors [that are forbidden on
Sabbath];
because labor is an evocation of the secular world, because it is to
that world
that labor addresses itself, and the resting of Sabbath is an evocation
of the
supreme, great and sacred world. Therefore, in that the
supplementary
soul from the supreme world is found in man [on Sabbath], so that if he
labors,
it is as if he mixes the most supreme sanctity with the secular, and
the only
law for this is death, for he is cutting down [the seedlings] God
forbid..." (Parshas Pikudei)
Notice here that Alshich alludes to an entirely individualized
relationship: On Sabbath God is connecting directly, and attending
specifically, to each single
individual Jew who keeps Sabbath.
Here is a relationship of renewal, of a return to one's own source, to
the
original element that one once was, before ever descending into this
world of
dividedness. Hence the capacity for renewal - even to the extent
of
re-creation - of the personality through observance of Sabbath (and
through
study of Torah, for the Torah too preceded the created universe).
Thus does Sabbath make the man, protecting his integrity from entropy,
from
danger, from rupture and disintegration. Sabbath creates reality
anew; a
tangible new reality of mitsva, a reality whose raison d'etre is for
the sake
of the human being.
This new reality - the world of Sabbath - is the world of yetsira.
Here a human being
is an active and powerful partner,
creating anew and being created anew, shedding the secular skins of a
divided
world.
From Sabbath, you go forth into the world of the secular. You do
not
revert to the days of the week. Rather you go forth to greet
them, armed
with your new approach. You are fragrant with the scent of the
Garden of
Eden. Its scent follows you through the week, from the very first
day of
the new week, until the eve of the following Sabbath. You can
look
forgivingly upon the days of the week, you can smile at the conflict
and
contradiction that plagued you, back in your earlier period - prior to
your Sabbath
renewal.
History can be seductively persuasive, for after all, the facts speak
for
themselves. Join one fact to another and you have
induction. Yet,
philosophers are becoming aware of the logical problems inherent in
inductive
conclusions:
History records the flow of events along the course of time. The
weakness
of such an approach stems from the fact that flow, by nature, controls
the
objects that are found in its state.
In the state of flow, the activity of an object is measured rather than
its
substance. Or to use our terminology, flow measures "doing,"
and fails to measure "being." Flow creates a dynamic system, a
container. The container is primary, its content only
secondary.
Results are more important than substance, than principles, than
values.
The instrumental, result-oriented system devours the human affinity for
value. Gone are human sensitivities and values; a human being
possesses
value only insofar as he is an instrument effecting events. Flow
sets the
pace and the causal sequence of events; substance is ignored.
How ideal it would be if one could relate simultaneously to both flow
and
focus. It is this blend that Sabbath emphasizes. On
Sabbath, flow
arrives home, and drops anchor. The coast is safe - quiet and
transparent; its clarity penetrates through all layers of time.
Flow and
focus merge into one entity: "Being" merges with
"doing", to their mutual benefit. It is the ideal
relationship. It is the way that quality is meant to relate to
quantity
- and intensive study to extensive study, and the private
realm to
the public realm, and intention to deed.
For this reason, the halacha specifically focuses upon these elements -
upon
transferring from the private to the public domain and vice versa, upon
intention and upon thought. These are determining factors in the
prohibitions of Sabbath.
Environmental forces create flow, as do the laws of gravity and
external
pressures. Flow is not born of inner motivation. It is born
of
servitude - it is a condition of belonging to the environment without
the
complementary condition of freedom from the environment.
Flow is the movement of an object unconnected and uncontrolled by human
consciousness.
If a human being were to relate exclusively to the flow mode, never
once
focusing upon his own existence, he would eventually be swept away -
just
another object flowing down the stream; ultimately he would lose
contact with
his own existence.
Focus is what a human being does in order to express the human ability
to
control environmental activity. One who imposes his own creative
will
upon the external environment, attains the union - the encounter -
between
subject and object.
A human being who is willing to grant qualitative attention to his
environment,
who is willing to relate to his own specific existential conditions
through
full and conscious personal intention, will find it transformed under
his
hands. He will find that his conditions become richly
meaningful.
They have been turned into an objective container richly filled with
subjective
content.
Focus does this. Focus does not halt flow in order to arrest
flow, but
rather in order to charge it with meaning, to transform it into the
tool by
which the human being, the "crown of creation," expresses itself.
There are those who believe that focus should be used to arrest flow
and to do
away with it entirely. Who needs the external environment, they
say. All one needs is subjective spiritual experience.
This is an error. This approach to existence can drain the
natural life
force. The physical environment is never appreciated, and never
allowed
to renew one's sources of physical vitality.
To strip the environment of its natural flow is to render it an empty
and
useless vessel. Flow without focus is as focus without flow: A
world
without man, or man without a world - a ship without a captain or a
captain
without a ship - equally useless.
SLEDGEHAMMER
IMPACT
Chazal
compare resting on Sabbath to the blow
of the sledgehammer: The power of impact is created at the moment the
hammer
comes to rest, at the moment immediately following its swift descent.
Indeed,
it is the imminent moment of
rest that loads the descent with such great power. It is a
mystery, this
power. It is the secret of control, quite well known to every
true master
of the martial arts.
The
master weighs action against rest -
movement against pause - attaining the flawless equilibrium of poise
versus
counterpoise. The weapon that he wields is perfect balance, and
it is
formidable.
"Remember
the day of Sabbath"
includes the positive commandment to rest (...the sledgehammer
comes to rest).
"Guard the day of Sabbath" refers to negative commandments, to
controlling the dynamics of activity (the sledgehammer in descent).
The negative commandments are those
that prohibit labor on Sabbath. This prohibition of labor deals
with and
encompasses the meanings, intentions, and thoughts that are the
motivating
forces leading to labor.
These
elements - which address themselves to
the inner human process as it relates to the external act - are
required, along
with the objective action, in order for labor to constitute a
prohibited
act.
We
might say that prohibiting labor for the
sake of Sabbath constitutes a merging of flow with focus - a merging of
the
descent and the impact into one entity. For it is only in their
merger
that they are effective. Laboring to attain material means, when
this
labor is not directed toward a sublime goal, drains the human
being.
Conversely, sublime goals alone, which one never labors to express by
material
means are devoid of substance.
The
commandment - "Remember the day of Sabbath
to sanctify it" - exalts the human creature. It raises him from a
dimension of subjection and subservience to the dimension of
height. It
frees him, and it empowers him. It places him in control: He
controls the
descent of the sledgehammer, as well as its impact. He is to lead
reality
in the direction that he chooses, toward a destiny that he determines.
The
types of labor that are prohibited on Sabbath
reflect this purpose. 'Selecting' is forbidden, and 'carrying'
from one
domain to another. Prohibiting these activities means prohibiting
the
detachment of flow from focus.
Similarly
with all Sabbath prohibitions:
The
prohibitions on Sabbath are designed to
keep the human being in control, to create a mutually complementary
balance between
activity and rest, and to ascertain that human beings maintain control
over
this balance.
Sabbath
keeps the six days of the week from
coming apart. These are two entirely separate modes of existence
whose
characters are diametrically opposed to one another. Sabbath
prevents a
permanent rift.
Sabbath
will not allow external reality to
flow uncontrolled, unmediated by human consciousness, nor will it allow
the
inner human consciousness to follow its own subjective imaginings,
unmediated
by tangible reality.
Sabbath
transfers the human experience of
existence from an outer mode to an inner mode, attaching it to a
reality that
is essentially human - and that contains all three dimensions: Inner,
outer,
and higher (values/ideals).
The
yearning to live "for the sake of
heaven" must pass through action performed "for the sake of
mitsva." Spiritual need must be expressed through practical
activity.
PRESENCE
Out
of the merger of utilitarian goals with
spiritual goals grows a quintessentially human experience. This
experience can only be described as the sensation of presence.
The
sensation of presence requires that
experience be built of a three-dimensional reality. It must
combine
subjective thought, conscious intent, and practical action:
Thought
is that which combines ideas,
values, and spirituality with emotion. Thought then consolidates
these
elements within the inner spaces of "I."
Conscious
intent is that which
connects the qualities of thought with the tangible situation that is
here and
now.
Practical
action is that which
ultimately transforms quality into tangible presence; this is the union
between
man, Creator and universe.
In
the absence of this sense of presence, in
the absence of Sabbath, a human being is susceptible to arrogance and
also to
despair:
"The
Torah has forbidden 'premeditated
labor.'" This is a signal to the arrogant, who believe in their
own
power and in their own strong arm. They deny the Creator of the
universe.
Therefore,
the lesson of Sabbath befits the
six days of the week. For without Sabbath, God forbid, one is cut
off -
search as one may - from any ultimate authority. One sinks deeper
into
the swamp of existence - and there is no solid ground there...and so
one loses
control over one's existence.
The
sensation is one of detachment.
Alienation and a dread of existence accompany the man who has lost the
sense of
his own height. He is soon caught and pulled down.
He
becomes immersed in the mechanics of toil,
which bow to no human authority, which are the distorted offspring of
external
reality, and which ultimately enslave the man, making of him a puny
cog, devoid
of quality, devoid of any consciousness of his own value.
Once
he loses consciousness his own value, he
has become a blind and oblivious instrument. He becomes a
mechanical
servant to a meaningless reality.
But
when there is presence, one's world
becomes powerfully significant, and one's self most powerful of
all. The
sensation of presence is so powerful as to replace, and to eliminate
the need
to pursue certainty. For after all, who pursues certainty?
The
need for absolute certainty is born of
absolute despair. It is born of the desperate (but artificial,
and
futile) effort to fill a vacuum created by existential terror. A
perpetual dread of existence - that has no consistent focus - is the
constant
companion of the pursuer of certainty. This existential dread is
born of
a human being's enslavement to the machine-like mechanisms of survival.
TRUTH
AND PRESENCE
"And so it is written: 'And on the seventh day He did Sabbath and
He
did soul.' What does this mean, 'and He did soul?' This
teaches
that the day of Sabbath upholds all the souls, for it says, 'and He did
soul.'"[17]
Ohr
HaChaim calls Sabbath "the thing that
upholds". He defines it as the foundation that gives permanence
to
reality.[18]
From this
perspective, we may view Sabbath as a destination. Our journey
toward
this destination begins with adventure, yet it is paved with travail,
and with
the tribulation that all men must pass in their search for truth.
But
what could be more precious, what could be worthier of travail, than
truth?
Chazal,
the sages of the Talmud, deter
us. They point out that the search for truth is paved with
difficulty. They remind us that when God wished to create Man, He
advised
first with His heavenly court. Truth - who was a member of the
court -
did not favor Man's creation. For Truth maintained that man is
wholly
deceitful.[19]
The
Creator of the universe rejected Truth's
advice, for He willed to create man. Truth was cast down to
earth,
instead, by the Creator, and compelled to join Man: "Truth from earth
shall grow."
Perhaps
Truth wished to avenge itself,
for it bit into Man - and this was well before the snake's bite; for
the snake
cast its venom into the human race at a much later point. Man
felt
Truth's bite, and was transformed.
From
that moment on, he could no longer live
without truth.
As
long as there is breath of life in man, he
feels that he must have truth. He longs for it, and he must go in
search
of it, and he must inspect every consequence and every achievement by
its
light.
Thus
is man's existence attached - riveted -
to the true, despite his being a great admirer of the false. He
lives in
truth's shadow; truth is always spoiling his show and ruining his
pretense. Truth cools man's heated and frenzied delight in the
lie.
At
the early, primitive stage, man seeks
truth in objective reality, in the world of facts. He must go and
invent
instruments, so that he can examine the truth. He does not sense,
and he
still has not sensed, his increasing subservience to the instruments
that he
himself creates. Thus is formed an instrumental reality,
persuasive by
virtue of its possession of the facts.
However,
it tends to go the way of all
instruments: When a new and more sophisticated one appears, you throw
the old
one out. You adopt the new instrument, for it will do the work in
your
place, if not necessarily in your interests.
Eventually
you lose control of the
system. You feel your contact with reality not as the touch of
your hand
upon the cane, but as the touch of your cane upon the ground; the point
of
encounter is between the cane and the ground.
The
fact that human perception of objective
reality grows thus distant and distorted may not be so serious.
Consider
however, the grave consequences of attempting to investigate one's own
subjective self, using the instruments that one has created.
Imagine
believing that one can comprehend,
through instrumental techniques, one's own emotions, thoughts, dreams
and
aspirations, in short, one's inner world, home of the infinite and
measureless
quality of "I," originality's abode, and creativity's.
This
realm does not yield to research
instruments of any sort, for such instruments are designed for a fixed
(limited) physical reality. Therefore, permanence (limitedness)
characterizes them.
Even
physical sensation - that human
experience most closely related to the material world - has been found
incompatible with - and inaccessible to - scientific research, due to
science's
complete and utter dependency upon instrumental means. Seen from
this
perspective, one is no longer perplexed by the total failure of the
behavioral
"sciences."
This
primitive stage, the search for
"objective" truth within the external reality of objects, does not
assuage man's distressing hunger, and yet one cannot do without this
stage
because after all, truth without the weight of objectivity is no truth.
Desperation
drove Adam to eat from the Tree
of Knowledge. He was desperate, despite the fact that he had been
endowed
with utter profundity of absolute knowledge of all the mysteries of the
created
universe. He felt desperate, despite the fact that he could "see
from one end of the universe to its other end." He felt
desperate,
despite the fact that he did not know the meaning of physical
boundaries, for
after all he had been created from the Absolute, so that the
limitations of
space and time did not exist for him. Furthermore he had never
tasted of
death. Despite all this, still and all and nevertheless, he
sensed that
the very fact of being a creation composed of dichotomy disturbed his
tranquility.
The
mere fact of dichotomy threatened his
confidence. His Creator was constantly requiring him to stand
guard, to
maintain a state of alert, a never-ending watch over the dynamic that
He had
created, in the endless conflict between spirit and matter.
Adam
must forever persevere in his untiring
efforts to maintain this sensitive balance - a balance not attained
unless by
the constant standing of one's guard.
Despite
the fact that Adam ruled over
spirit, which ruled absolutely over matter, in the period before the
sin, still
he felt threatened. He sensed that he lacked full control.
Adam
perceived that the universe was
based exclusively on the rules of physical matter. Only he, Man,
was out
of place in the created universe.
Chazal
convey his sense of frustration in
Adam's complaint to his Creator: "Everyone has a mate, but I have
no
one."[20]
And Adam would not be
satisfied until God gave him Chava as his wife, as his physically
present
partner.
So
man ruled matter, and he ruled Woman who
represented matter to him. She was better at it than he - at
bonding with
matter and at bonding with him - at connecting to the environment and
to the
other.
But
Man was still not satisfied with this
arrangement, for he controlled matter only indirectly, only through an
intermediary (through the spirit, or through the woman).
Along
comes the snake with a seductive idea:
Why not have spiritual knowledge pass through the medium of physical
matter -
that's that tree over there. Its fruit is very interesting in
that it's
made up of a special kind of substance that is actually able to
physically
contain spiritual knowledge.
It's
really so. If you only want it,
spirit can take on the look of tangibility; it can have the feeling of
an
object. You'll be able to feel and touch truth just as you now
can feel
and touch any object that possesses tangible substance.
Adam
did not perceive that this process would
be accompanied by a substantial reduction of truth's stature, that
truth's
endless vistas would be forced to shrink in order to squeeze into the
narrow
straits of finite, limited material reality, that truth would be
lowered from
the realm of the absolute to the realm of the relative.
Rambam
explains this in Moreh Nevuchim.
Eating from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil degraded truth, for
by this
action man lost the capacity to distinguish between true and false -
these are
distinctions expressed in absolute terms. Now man would tend to
distinguish between good and evil - a relative concept: What seems good
to me
may seem evil to you...
Thus
did man renounce absolute truth for the
sake of a relative truth, for a truth that was not whole. Thus
did eating
from the Tree of Knowledge give Adam a sense of tangibility. Adam
thought
to adopt this tangibility instead of truth, for truth seemed to him too
abstract and too spiritual to be the instrument enabling him to do as
he
pleased.
But
Adam quickly discovered that the
distinctions between good and evil that had penetrated the material
realm were
not adequate to the task of elucidating goals and ideals for him. This
new,
materialized-but-shrunk form of truth could clarify only the most basic
utilitarian considerations, those drawn from the realm of
survival-oriented
activity. The sublime needs, the realm of the spirit, had been
left
outside of reality's sphere.
Adam
discovered to his disappointment that
eating from the Tree of Knowledge could not serve as a substitute for
intelligence, for intellect, for the need for ideals and spirituality,
for
fulfillment of the higher needs.
Yet,
not only the higher needs, for as it
turned out, even survival's needs were not an independent entity.
It
seemed that even they could not thrive in man without spirit; they were
nothing
but one component in an entire experience of existence that encompassed
also
morality, conscience and spiritual experience. For "man does not
live
by bread alone".
In
the absence of spirituality, man felt that
somehow something had cracked; a fissure had formed in his experience
of
existence. There was now something new called the realm of the
unknown. It would be a realm inaccessible by means of tangible
reality.
When
spirituality is absent, one feels a
rift, a crack in one's very sense of being. One feels that
unknown forces
loom just beyond the horizon, and that they are inaccessible to the
material
and tangible evidence of one's senses.
One
must call the unknown by the name of
mysticism, as if it were a realm unto itself, governed by its own
rules.
One must pretend that the right knowledge of the right rules could
grant one
power and control over this infinite, inaccessible, and terrifying
vista.
However,
common sense does not permit a
rational man to cast his lot with such attitudes, nor with their
so-called
rules and principles for operating in the dimension of the
unknown.
Fantasy, illusion, far-fetched sensory distortion - these are the
legacy of
fools and of the weak-minded.
Any
intelligent person can see that so-called
control over the realm of the unknown is a hallucination, the ultimate
childish
fantasy. It is an illusion. It refuses to recognize
tangible
reality. Only by deluding oneself can one believe that it is
possible to
circumvent, and even control, the limitations of time and space.
So
the intelligent man must push aside his
longings for the absolute. He must relegate them to the
department of
myths and fairy tales.
This
realm has its own hierarchy of
experts. They, of course, see to their own constituency.
They take
care to populate the unknown, filling it to suffocation with phenomena
that
only they truly understand: Demons, ghosts, invisible men,
instantaneous transport,
levitation, and all the rest of futility, taken from their own dreams,
from
their own detachment from reality.
Except
that something remains, to torment
even the modern man, who arrogantly presumes to use only his rational
mind. Consider the mere fact that the human spirit cannot let go
of its
relationship to mysticism.
Obviously,
there is something to it, admits
the rationalist in his moment of frankness, or in his moment of
weakness.
For example, when he finds himself in a stressful situation over which
rational
means do not prevail.
It
would not do to make light of the power of
the unknown. Even they who hold tight to the struggle for
survival as to
their only reality, have known the torment of the unknown.
The
limitations of space and time which the
rationalist has adopted for himself cause him boredom at best and
suffocation
at worst. The rationalist has willingly renounced the right to
ride on
the wings of imagination. This accounts for your rationalist's
conceptual
aridity and for his intellectual poverty, for he confines himself
within the
four walls of materialistic realism.
His
reductive tendencies eventually relegate
his reality to the junk pile:
Time
and again, his reality threatens - it
does this quite regularly, on and off recurrently, during different
periods of
human history - to turn him into an instrument. Once he has
entered the
instrumental reality, man becomes a complex but rather limited tool,
for which
one can always find a substitute. There is always another tool
that will
do man's job better.
Yet,
this is exactly man's greatest
fear. Being turned into an instrument is unbearable to him and
fills him
with unspeakable dread. So he runs back into the arms of the
unknown, to
mysticism in its latest guise. One symptom is escapism. He
flees
from painful reality in moments of distress. Another symptom is
the
complete absence of any sense of inner vision.
In
desperation, man concludes that he can
believe only in himself. Soon he 'hears voices.' He begins
to obey
his 'gut feelings.' He bows to powers that are the fruit of his
own
imagination, and it is an imagination grown feverish with existential
torment.
At
his latest stage, in his ultimate despair,
he finally denies the existence of any truth in any form. This is
known
as: "Every man has his own truth."
This
last and final renunciation of truth
drives him straight into the arms of the absurd: Ice is hot, evil is
good, the
victim is guilty, and the murderer deserves compassion.
Post-modernism
celebrates its victory in the
kingdom of darkness: The existence of one absolute truth becomes a
foreign
concept; no one has heard of it. The 'dimension of height' is
absent; as
are ideals, and sublime goals.
This
latest state of affairs appears to
invite capricious behavior; one no longer requires actual reasons for
specific
actions; an increasingly instrument-oriented attitude is
encouraged.
Ignorance dances on a fool's grave.
Yet
man is intransigent. Very soon he
has changed the rules of the game again. These new rules - in the
period
of post-despair - are not even required to demonstrate any connection
at all,
neither to one another, nor to existential reality, nor to any body of
knowledge. One must merely surround oneself with high-sounding
(if disconnected)
phrases, with metaphor, with rules of play and of ritual, and with
other forms
of exhibitionism.
These
can be very impressive (for a very
brief moment). Upon this world of illusion and delusion man
bestows the
status of art, for he has ceased to seek meaning in the values within
art.
Thus
the golem of art is created. Not
only is it devoid of artistic content, it rapidly loses even the barest
forms
of art. This is the extreme end of the human behavioral spectrum,
set in
the context of the instrumental approach to existence.
At
the other extreme of the instrumental
approach to existence, we find an opposite, yet peculiarly similar,
phenomenon:
This is the grim and inhuman fanaticism that is disguised as
religion.
It
is based upon the sort of ignorance that
justifies viciousness, and that supports only the barest and flimsiest
forms of
morality - for the sake of appearance. It does not even pretend
to be
humane; there is only ritual, devoid of spiritual or human
content. This
parody has supplanted the profound and powerful bond that is meant to
link man
with his Creator.
The
illusion of a proliferation of many
truths creates pluralism of religions, and of idolatries. They
are the
fruit of imagination fleeing truth.
The
clearest sign that it is the lie that
rules over these expressions of sickness, is their characteristically
destructive pendulum motif: The adherent swings back and forth between
self-loathing and self-delusion.
This
pattern constitutes a central axis
within all of the new (and some of the old) religions, whose common
denominator
is restlessness, and short range of effect:
Masochism
and self-torment cannot be born
past a certain point. After that point, a reverse reaction sets
in.
One
imposes the guilt that one can no longer
bear - upon another human being. This is accompanied by an
intense hatred
for one's fellow human being - a hatred that increases as one's own
distress
increases. The rotten fruit of racism is one product of this
process. Attributing evil intentions to one's victim is another.
The
result is a unique phenomenon: Masochism
of a type that also erases all sensitivity to the needs of other human
beings. One lives then a miserable existence indeed.
Matters are
determined by every caprice of every passing moment, by an absence of
justification for one's existence, by knowing no pleasure other than
destruction, and by accelerating the vicious cycle of misery.
Bitten
by the truth on the one hand, and by
the snake on the other, man rushes back and forth between the
two. He has
turned the joyous human condition, rich in creative challenge, into an
existential tragedy. He faces life helplessly; there is no
delight to his
existence...
As
the inevitable next step arising out of
his distress, he becomes filled with hatred for the entire universe,
and indeed
even for the Creator of the universe. From here, he moves in the
inevitable direction of self-hatred...and then he starts all over again
- a
vicious cycle - turning existential reality into apocalyptic hell.
Such
is the eviction from the Garden of
Eden. It is a dead end, and a one way street. There is no
way out
of the sense of detachment from one's own existential needs. One
can
never escape the sense that one must settle for mere mechanical
fulfillment of
needs: One must simply pretend to ignore the needs felt by the human
spirit.
Of
course, one can always escape to the
unknown if things get too bad…One can always detach from reality, and
deny the
value of human beings, and of reality, and even of life
itself…
We
have portrayed - A Soul in Flight from
Truth.
Along
comes the Torah, with a rather
surprising suggestion. See here, human being: Don't bother with
pure and
absolute truth. For "not in heaven is it." Seek it in its
new form. Don't you know? It has been cast down to earth,
by the
Creator. It's not up there any more, in its high and mighty
home in
the heavens. Why, it is within hand's reach.
"Not
in heaven is it that you would say,
'who can go up to heaven for us, and bring it to us, and tell it to us
and we
shall do it. And not across the sea is it, that you would say,
'who can
cross to the other side of the sea for us, and bring it to us, and tell
it to
us and we shall do it. Rather the thing is very close to you - in
your
own mouth and in your own heart to do it."[21]
Truth
has moved into the human
microcosm. Here is its new breeding ground - within man
himself.
Man determines where he will raise truth. "Truth from earth shall
grow."[22]
Truth
first begins within
"I." "I" contains absolute truth, yet it is fitted to
every individual expression.
Any
original, qualitative, value-oriented
spark of an idea, as it is expressed by any particular human being, any
action
initiated by "I" in order to enhance "I," (as opposed to
enhancing ego, which diminishes "I," both one's own "I" and
that of others) represents absolute truth. It is an expression of
the 'godly
spark' within man.
Man
- using "I" - attires
truth gloriously, in the garb of reality. He transforms truth
into
tangible presence. "Truth from earth shall grow" grants its own
value to physical reality and becomes transformed into living and
breathing
presence.
Truth
clothed in tangibility is able to
fulfill every possible human need: The physical senses bask in its
fragrance,
the rational mind steps in line with it, even imagination and emotion
rejoice
in it, as bride and groom rejoice who have found one another at
last. Joy
abounds. How is this?
Sabbath
AS PRESENCE
A
bride was affixed to the six days of the
week, one split second before they could commit suicide - out of pure
sheer
despair, for they had lost the purpose of their existence.
Sabbath
tastes a bit like mohn.
(The mohn
in the desert could
taste like anything you chose.) If you wish, the taste of Sabbath
will
satisfy your physical hunger and sensual need. "Meat and fish and
all delicacies."
If
you are concerned that physical sensation
will push spirituality aside - well, Sabbath offers the sacred as
well.
It has the dimension of height; it has room for the Godly imperative -
more
room than any of the other mitsvos, in fact. For after all it is
an
expression in common with the Creator of the universe in all His glory,
for
after all, He, too, participates in the keeping of Sabbath and in the
making of Sabbath.
Yet
mainly, Sabbath expresses the human self.
There
are two faces to Sabbath: There is
"guard," and there is "remember." "Guard"
refers to the negative commandments, to the prohibition against
labor.
This frees the house from excessive elements of 'doing' that might
obscure the
world of 'being.'
"Remember"
refers to the positive
commandments, to sanctifying Sabbath outwardly and inwardly. It
refers to
cleanliness and purity of house and of body, to "honoring" by
thoroughly cleaning. It refers to the clean tablecloth and the
fine bed
linens, to "honoring" the floor, to clothing oneself in fine garments
that are especially for Sabbath. It refers to light and joy of
candles
lit in honor of Sabbath.
"Remember"
includes "oneg
Shabbos,"
"Sabbath pleasure." "Oneg
Shabbos" grants
legitimacy to - and indeed encourages - the physical pleasures.
Most
of all, "remember" is
preoccupation with spirituality, with the sacred. It is study of
Torah
and it is preoccupation with the many mitsvos of Sabbath that pertain
to honor
and to sanctity.
Sabbath
sets aside a special place in her
sacred shrine for every individual. Sabbath tailors her sacred
space to
every individual need; she bestows sanctity upon each one to the extent
that he
can handle, in the amount that his soul can absorb.
Within
the protected space of Sabbath, anyone
may express his own soul's unique quality - his own God-derived
creative powers
- as discussed above.
Sabbath
as reciprocity:
Creator
and created establish their mutual
bond. The Holy One Himself, in all His glory, keeps
Sabbath. Sabbath
is His expression; it is expressive of the One who created the
universe:
"For six days God made the heavens and the earth and on the seventh day
He
sabbathed and He souled."
On
Sabbath a Jew senses that he is a partner
on equal footing with the Creator of the universe; Sabbath is his
ticket into
the sacred space, because Sabbath is the expression of his own soul's
quality -
and God's throne is the quarry from which this quality is mined.
In
truth, every act of mitsva raises a man,
to the dimension of height that shelters over every mitsva, simply by
virtue of
its being the Lord's bidding. What is unique to Sabbath, and to
the study
of Torah, is that even one's body, and one's practical actions, and
one's
external reality become sanctified - with a sanctity so sublime as to
penetrate, and to make sacred the inner qualitative space as well as
the outer
tangible realm.
Therefore,
Sabbath provides an experience of
truth that is tangible presence. Tangible experience is liberated on
Sabbath
from the tension of survival; it is cleaned of the fear that stems from
the
struggle for existence.
This
fear is capable of destroying even the
positive components of the existential struggle. Tension is the
culprit
and anxiety over one's survival. It prevents the individual from
developing a direct and natural bond with his environment or even with
his own
self.
Let
it be clear that attempting to circumvent
the tensions of self-preservation only makes things worse. It can
only
complicate one's experience of existence. Attempting to avoid the
natural
tensions is as futile as attempting to escape heaven. Such
escapism simply
intensifies the lust for sensation.
Or,
alternatively, such escapism can weaken
the lust for sensation to such an extent that one's simple enthusiasm
for
living and one's natural sources of vital energy become blocked.
So much
for trying to escape the natural experience.
Denying
idealistic or spiritual goals is
equally useless. The attempt to connect only with what is
obvious,
natural, and animalistic does not work. It brings one to
self-loathing,
and it denies one's own qualitative self; this strangles creative
expression.
The
presence of Sabbath resolves this
conflict. It transforms ideal into tangible fact. What is
unique
about this tangible fact is that it does not stand in opposition to any
ideal,
which is usually the way we are accustomed to perceiving matters:
Reality
versus ideal, life as a condition of being split between matter and
spirit.
Instead,
"He who makes peace on
high" is the same One Who makes "peace upon us." Hence
"Shabbat Shalom:" This is the motto of Sabbath. For Sabbath is
the presence that brings peace to a reality that is split in half, that
is
steeped in conflict between opposing forces - between spirit and
matter,
emotion and ration, action and rest.
The
peace that Sabbath brings is not the
peace of compromise but rather the peace of wholeness: Rest endows
action with
integrity and quality. Ration endows emotion with meaning,
quality, and
purpose. The legitimization of physical matter transforms it into
a
vessel that bears blessings of the spirit. And most of all,
Creator and
creature can come together, in one exquisite sheltering union.
In
the tangible presence of truth that is
formed by Sabbath, heaven and earth are linked - just as they are in
Yaakov's
ladder, for Yaakov is the man and the symbol of truth.
The
presence that is Sabbath cancels out the
human need to embrace illusion, to drift into fantasy, to escape
reality,
etc. It renders superfluous all of these longings for mystical
experience
that are born of despair, born of the unrequited yearning for sanctity,
born of
the desperate longing to purify oneself of the filth of forced
confinement to
physical matter.
Can
matter and spirit come together in
union? It is an existential miracle, performed every single week
- one
part to every seven of our existence. There is no waiting for the
ultimate end of time. One miracle follows close upon another -
every
week! Happiness is within reach. Fortunate is the believer.
For
this good fortune is reserved for the
believer alone. It is for the keeper and sanctifier of
Sabbath. The
lost son returns home, by rising above time in order to dive back into
it,
armed with new power.
What
is this new power? Perhaps we can
call it the power to grant time the tangible features of space:
No
longer will he perceive time as a source
of anxiety (future time), and no longer will he perceive time as the
guilt that
pursues him (past time).
Rather,
his time is a space, a presence; it
is a continuing present time, in which past and future are
joined. Past
and future join each other in the present moment, to receive their due
repair,
which is within creative reach.
The
place that is called the present moment
has the power to repair the past and to plan the future. It is a
presence
unto itself. It is easily attained; it awaits only "I," to step
in and take control.
SIN,
RETURN/REPENTANCE/REPAIR, AND SABBATH
Sabbath
as repair: What does Sabbath come to
repair? How does repair come about? What need is there for
it? Chazal connect these elements in their classically cryptic
fashion:
Adam
felt humiliated and disgraced by his
sin. Then Cain sinned. At this point, teshuva - the
possibility of
return/repentance/repair - was revealed to Adam. Adam rejoiced,
and
composed "Ode-Song to the Day of Sabbath."[23]
Here
we derive the classic connection between Sabbath and teshuva, but
what does it mean? It appears to follow this
formula: Sin-teshuva-Sabbath.
Eating
from the Tree of Knowledge was the
source of sin. Repair was the discovery of the possibility of teshuva,
through the
discovery of Sabbath as real presence, as a new reality that man, by
his own
power, is able to create. Man is capable; he is the only one who
can
create this new real presence. He has the power to create "the
semblance of Olam Haba" - the presence that evokes Paradise. Yes,
the lost son can indeed return to his lost Paradise.
The
Jewish Sabbath is reserved for the Jew
who keeps Sabbath. It is inaccessible and alien to the outsider,
who does
not believe in the capacity of human beings, who does not believe in
the human
power of repair, who does not believe in the Garden of Eden, who
believes that
Paradise is lost, Apocalypse Now, etc.
You
could think that eating of the Tree of
Knowledge caused man to deteriorate. After all, in the "before"
picture, a human being stood at the summit of the universe. He
served as
its spiritual center, he ruled all of physical matter. In the
"after" picture, he had fallen to the lowest depths. Utterly
bewildered by his new limitations, he thrashed about in frustration and
futility, treading the muddy waters of physical reality.
However,
as with all heavenly punishment, its
purpose was not human suffering, but rather human education -
"sufferings
of love." Therefore, along with his descent to the plane of
physical
matter and his expulsion from the Garden of Eden, man was given the
equipment
necessary to transform physical matter into service of God. He
would
become able to use the material world not only for his own survival in
his own
struggle for existence (a struggle he had never known in the Garden of
Eden)
but also as a tool of spiritual power.
It
is at this point that a new human ability
makes its appearance; it is the capacity for repair. Repair
empowers man
with new abilities and new possibilities, with a qualitatively new
power that
man in the Garden of Eden did not possess.
It
seems that Adam was willing to risk eating
from the Tree of Knowledge in order to acquire this new power.
ABILITY
TO CREATE
Thrown
out of the Garden of Eden, man
confronted a new reality that was utterly hostile to human
existence.
"Thorn and weed," beasts of prey, brute force ruled this new
world. The law of the jungle held unbridled sway. How could
man be
expected to continue his role as the godly presence within the physical
universe under such circumstances, without proper conditions?
And
so the Creator gave man "the
world of creativity." This meant the chance to create his own
reality, with his own hands. He would create a home that would
contain
quality, rather than merely affording shelter from the beasts and the
elements.
"The
world of creativity"
means that man takes the materials from the physical "world of
doing," and the ideas from the spiritual "world of
creation." He kneads them all together to form a dough. Out
of
this dough, a delightful chala
for Sabbath emerges and rises forth.
The fragrance that wafts from it is reminiscent of the Garden of Eden.
The
"world of creativity" is
tailored to fit the keeper of Sabbath. For he is the one who is
deserving
of it. For he "has toiled on the eve of Sabbath" with the
materials taken from "the world of doing." He has endowed the
materials, on Sabbath, with meaningful content that he has drawn down
from
"the world of creation."
Because
he has done all this, these materials
have been enabled to continue their existence, for another six days,
until next Sabbath, as explained in Or HaChaim's enchanting
description.
This
repair, this truth that has grown out
and risen tangibly forth from the "world of creativity" constitutes
the revolutionary discovery of Teshuva.
Teshuva
is
a force capable of overturning the
orders of the universe and the laws of nature.
Sabbath
contains the presence of this new
reality that has been formed by human hands. The human keeper of
Sabbath
has created a reality of teshuva.
For when the subtle distinctions
between good and evil - as required of one who would accomplish teshuva
- are exposed to the
precious light of Sabbath candles, one learns the real way of sanctity,
and the
truest way of God's service. For it holds room enough for both
good and
evil, so it appears on Sabbath:
The
physical is allowed to express
itself. Materialistic activity is permitted and sanctified, and
the
existential human condition is turned into something "reminiscent of
the
next world." Physical matter turns spirituality into something
tangible, and there are no objections on either side.
"And
you shall love God your Lord with
all of your hearts." With your two hearts," Chazal reveal to
us. "With your two urges." Yes, it is possible and indeed
necessary for a human being to serve his Creator also with the evil
urge.
It
is with wonder, and with awe at beholding
the sacred, that Adam discovers the reality of Sabbath. "No
stupid
man can know it, no fool will ever understand this. For the
wicked bloom
like grass, and the workers of evil all blossom."[24] Yet the success of the
wicked is only temporary,
"in order to ultimately destroy them forever." For they live a
split life. It is ruptured by the conflict inherent in
existence.
Whereas
"a tsadik
blooms like a date
palm, like a cedar in Lebanon he flourishes, they are planted within
God's
house," within the reality of Sabbath's presence. For the
presence
of Sabbath resolves conflict and brings peace to adversaries.
[3] "'He who sanctifies Sabbath, and Israel, and the
intervals of time and festival.' And it could not say, 'Israel
sanctifies Sabbath and the intervals of time and festival.'
Because, whereas the
intervals of time and festival are dependent upon the court's
recognition of
the new month based upon the testimony of eyewitnesses, Sabbath is
sanctified
once and forever." (Rashi, Brachos: 49A.)